


A Gift Divine

by halbeshaus



Category: Ancient Roman Religion & Lore, Pride and Prejudice & Related Fandoms, Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Crossover, F/M, Gen, Implied Cannibalism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Juvencus, Non-Graphic Violence, Religious Content, Religious References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-13 02:37:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19242118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halbeshaus/pseuds/halbeshaus
Summary: The end of days has come and the world as they know it is no more. Elizabeth and Mr Darcy return to Longbourn seeking salvation.





	A Gift Divine

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfic was written originally as coursework for one of my classes at uni. The task was to produce a “cultural translation” of one of the Latin poems we’d been studying. Because of the similarities between the opening lines of both works, I decided to make a Pride and Prejudice fanfic based on the Preface of Juvencus’ Book of Four Gospels. The Book of Four Gospels is a 4th century Christian epic, detailing Jesus' life as told by the Gospels. 
> 
> Ngl, this is a pretty niche fanfic and I’m p sure that some things won’t make sense if you don’t stan Juvencus. (Tbh, I wrote this about 6 months ago and things are beginning to look a bit wonky.) I’ve tried to put notes in so things make a bit more sense. Mrs Bennet is meant to be a God-like figure, Elizabeth parallels Christ, and Mr Darcy functions as Juvencus.
> 
> I mean absolutely no offence by this. I have a lot of respect for Christianity, Jane Austen, and Juvencus.

The universe has nothing without end —  
not earth, not realms of men, not golden Rome,  
not seas, not land, not stars that burn above.  
The Father of all things set a fixed time  
when final scorching fire will seize the world.

…

For I will sing of Christ’s life-giving deeds —  
a gift to nations, cleared of lies, divine.  
Nor do I fear world-wasting flames will seize  
my work: this might, in fact, deliver me  
when Christ the gleaming judge, his high-throned Father’s  
glory, descends within a blazing cloud.

— Juvencus' _Book of Four Gospels_ , translated by Scott McGill (2016).

 

* * *

 

 

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a man in possession of a good fortune, must one day fall to ruin.

~

Mrs Bennet sat at the head of the dining table, in the place that had before belonged to Mr Bennet. No pleasant conversation filled the air — for once, my sisters-in-law were silent.

“Elizabeth will be with us soon,” said Mrs Bennet when the last of us sat down.

Opposite me, Kitty’s shoulders heaved from holding back a cough.

“I’m so glad you came back to us, Mr Darcy, Mr Bingley. Only the other day I was telling everyone left in Meryton how much we’d missed you at our table — and here you are! Our Jane would be so proud, Mr Bingley.”

Bingley sat frozen beside me.

~

I had not believed my darling Elizabeth when she first told me of her mother. I did not even share her desire to return when I had learnt the circumstances. But when revolution came, I left at Elizabeth’s behest.

“My mother set a time for matrimony,” said Elizabeth when she explained the particulars to me. Her eyes were light and dancing, but something in her smile made me falter. “Then, she set a time for final scorching fire to seize the world.”

Her palm pressed flat to mine. The scent of revolution present in the blood which skinned her cheek. “Have you not noticed? Everything she desires comes true.”

~

“We were made to fall,” said Mrs Bennet from her seat. “Every glorious thing men have made must turn to dust.”

I knew well the anger which burnt behind Mrs Bennet’s words. It was the very thing which had driven Elizabeth and I back here. I assumed it was the same reason Bingley was here, though I had not the chance to speak to him alone.

Kitty’s hand inched closer to her water glass.

~

“A sword has come,” explained Elizabeth to me one evening once our little girl had been put to bed. “We must be the ones to wield it. Fathers will be torn from daughters. Husbands from wives.”1 Her hands shook, her wrists narrow.

The quiet war was only beginning but already something was fracturing between us. We had left the city behind us in hope of reprieve, but orange flames tinged the horizon still. Blood red sky bled into midnight blue.

“It will not be easy. But it is righteous. It is deserved. There will be glory in exaltation.” Her voice had lost its usual candour. I am not certain who she was trying to convince then; herself, or me.

~

Dinner was brought into the dining room on a series of silver platters. It was not extravagant — in times such as these it was hard to be — but it was sustenance.

As we waited for the food to be passed along the table, new cups filled with wine were set beside us. It was deep burgundy and not thinned with water. Though I was thirsty, a metallic tang filled my mouth at the thought of drinking.

~

We decided it was time to leave Pemberley when the water in our taps ran red with rust.

Along the roadside golden wheat sprung into life and rippled like the sea under a breeze. I turned to watch through the back window; as if knowing we would not return, the fields began to wilt. I looked away, determined to keep my thoughts to the small world inside the carriage.

Our daughter slept in the space between us. Elizabeth hummed a hymn into her hair.

It was as if things were as they had always been: no revolution, no food shortages, no loss of privilege.

“My mother’s house will be kinder,” said Elizabeth. “All this hardship will be worth it.”

The crucifix around my neck had begun to tarnish. Still, for Elizabeth’s sake I did not take it off.2

~

I could not bear to eat the meat as the serving platter passed to me. I took the smallest cut, with edges browned perfectly and inside still pink.

“Taking so little, Mr Darcy? There’s plenty to go round.” I dared to look at Mrs Bennet. Her face was stern, her eyes the colour of salvation; their burning gaze so piercing I could neither recall nor forget them.

“I am afraid I have not the appetite. I am still recovering from my journey.” Mrs Bennet seemed to take this excuse.

The last time we had been together, Elizabeth’s thighs had been smooth, milk-white beneath my trembling hands; her laughter infectious. My thirst was biting, the wine in my cup did not aid me, but my water had run dry. I remembered Elizabeth’s pale wrists as I drank, how the skin there stretched white at a pin point, the burst of nail head, the gentle trickle of blood which would have been so much sweeter had it remained in her veins.

Candlelight danced in the tear tracks down Kitty’s face.

~

Before she left, I kissed both her cheeks. Her eyes turned up to heaven, or perhaps Elizabeth watched as I did her mother’s face suspended in the window high.

“It must be done,” said Elizabeth, no matter how many alternatives I offered. Her hand was warm in my own. Her pulse hot in her wrists. Her smile pleasant despite my fear. But in the slope of her shoulders sat the weight of her mother’s desire.

~

After dinner, I took a walk in the cooling night and found myself by the hot house. I stepped inside where the more exotic fruit and vegetables still flourished. In a corner, separate from the rest, stood a solitary tree. A single fruit hung from a branch and I could not help but take it, hoping that it would chase the churning taste of flesh and wine from my tongue.

With my thumbs I pierced its skin and split it into equal halves. I scooped out the seeds and brought them to my mouth. The fig was sweet, its flavour sharp and plentiful.3

What would Elizabeth say if she saw me hiding there, fig juice on my chin? She was part of us all now, her life saving sacrifice meant for another week we would not have thought for food.

A rush of cool air hit my neck. The hot house door slammed closed. I looked into the inky window and saw Mrs Bennet reflected, sword unsheathed in her hand.

**Author's Note:**

> 1 Matthew 10:34-36 "Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I have not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law. And a person’s enemies will be those of his own household."
> 
> 2 Matthew 10:38 "And whoever does not take his cross and follow me is not worthy of me."
> 
> 3 Mark 11:25 Jesus curses a fig tree and says "may no-one ever eat from you again."


End file.
